Dawnlark Plains Tell me what you know about dark nights

She feels unexpectedly guilty when his expression changes and he looks down, and the feeling intensifies when he apologizes. She finds some reassurance in the touch to her cheek, turning her head after a moment to press her face tentatively against him. It's a hesitant touch, more seeking comfort than affection; she's far too raw right now to be picky about the source. No, She murmurs softly to his question after several beats, sighing. I don't think I can make the journey — but thank you. It feels strange to lean against him and speak so softly to him despite her lingering agitation, but the combination of guilt and vulnerability is a strong one. Or perhaps pregnancy is already making her soft.